by T. A. White
She jerked, one hand pressing against his chest, her nails digging in just slightly.
He grunted as his thrusts picked up pace. He reached, down circling her clit.
“I’m close. Get there.” Fallon’s voice was rough with desire.
Breathy sounds escaped Shea as sensation quickened and the wave rolled back, bigger than before. Her skin pulled tight, as if the faintest brush of air against it would send her catapulting out of this world.
He thrust deep one last time with a long groan. The wave crested and she gave a strangled shriek as she slid down that deep tunnel of feeling with him.
Spent, he collapsed on top of her, his weight a welcome feeling as they came down from the high. Both panted with the intensity of the experience.
Shea brushed her fingers up and down Fallon’s back in a relaxing caress as she stared up at the ceiling of the tent.
He slipped out of her though he didn’t move from his position, just shifting slightly so his weight didn’t crush her. He turned his head to look at her from where he had buried it in the pillow. “What are you thinking?”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the strands slide against her skin. “That as good as you are at that, it doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for sneaking out of camp when you left.”
His grin was slow in coming as she turned to face him. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”
“I’m serious. Once I’ve had a chance to sleep and recover from this escapade, we’re going to have a talk.”
He pressed a kiss against her nose. “Later.”
She made a small sound of assent. Yes. Later. When they weren’t in the postcoital glow. She wanted clothes and plenty of space between them when they had that talk so he couldn’t distract her.
He pushed up, holding his weight above her with just his arms. She looked down his body and smirked. He did look nice like that, all firm and hard—the ridges and planes of his chest and abs on display.
Noticing her glance, he tweaked a nipple as he shifted to the side. She slapped his hand away even as she giggled, a sound she only seemed to make around him when he brought out her playful side.
He drew her into his arms, wrapping her tight. With anyone else she would have felt constricted, but with him she’d never felt so safe or cherished. This was what she’d missed when he’d been gone. The weight of him, the warmth of his body in their bed and the wordless comfort a simple embrace could offer.
Fallon pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he drew meaningless designs on her back. She shivered, the sensation threatening to spark another conflagration, before she settled again.
“I have missed you,” he said.
She shifted against him. She was glad to hear that, even if that was entirely his fault.
“I’ve missed you too.”
“Have you been up to anything interesting while I’ve been gone?”
She frowned against his shoulder before tilting her head back and attempting to pierce him with her best glare. It was missing a huge component since she was currently pressed naked against him, but she tried anyway.
“No, actually, I haven’t because you assigned a woman to me with all the sticking power of a burr. She’s been relentless in trying to train me to be the perfect Trateri woman.”
Fallon stared down at her with a rare expression for him—surprise. It helped allay the worst of Shea’s ire. Until right then, she hadn’t fully believed Daere when she said that Fallon hadn’t planned to change her into a Trateri woman.
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s spent the last few months trying to drill me in the etiquette and behavior befitting the Telroi of the Trateri Warlord. She’s lucky I didn’t feed her to any sleeper vines.”
“Sleeper vines?” he asked in a curious voice.
Ah, that’s right he probably hadn’t been acquainted with them before he headed out.
“They’re a carnivorous plant that camouflages itself among regular vines. When its prey comes near, it snatches the prey and drops it into its flower where it can digest and break the meat down into nutrients for the rest of the plant.”
He moved his head to look down at her in disbelief. She hid a smile in his chest. “Really? You’re not making that up, are you?”
“It’s all true. I swear. I had to save two of your men from one when they wouldn’t listen to reason.”
He settled back. “Next time just let the plant have them. It’ll save me from having to weed the idiots from my ranks.”
Shea made a sound of agreement. Sleep had latched its tentacles around her and was fast dragging her down. Her eyes closed as she relaxed into Fallon, the feel of his hands rubbing her back lulling her further into sleep.
“Wait, where were your guards?”
Exhaustion stole the filter from her mouth. “You didn’t actually think I would listen to that order, did you?”
His chest tensed under her. She opened one eye to peer up at a set of whiskey colored eyes glaring down at her. She closed the eye and snuggled back into him. She was too tired for this conversation.
“Maybe not you, but them, definitely.”
She patted his stomach. “It’s cute how you think they could stop me.”
There was an angry huff above her head. This time she didn’t open her eyes, letting sleep pull her under. A kiss pressed against her ear and then Fallon pulled the covers up over her shoulder.
“You know that’s not why I left Daere with you?”
“What is?” her question was a drowsy murmur.
“I never wanted you to act as a normal Trateri woman. She’s there to provide guidance when you need it—to ease your path when possible.”
“Hmm,” was her only response.
“Sleep, Shea. We can discuss this when you’ve rested.” A short time later she thought she heard him whisper, “What am I going to do with you?”
She had no answer for him as she lost the battle against her exhaustion and fell into sleep’s embrace.
CHAPTER SIX
VOICES WOKE her, the partition doing little to shield her from the sound. Shea blinked sleepily at the empty pillow beside her. She stretched, sending one arm questing through the covers, already knowing she would find no warm body next to hers. The sheets still held a hint of his heat, meaning he hadn’t been gone long.
Shea sat up, the sheets pooling in her lap. Her hair was a tangle of curls around her face. She ran one hand through them, pulling them back.
She squinted at the partition as she tried to figure out what she should do. Her mind had that cottony feeling that she got when she just woke up after not getting enough sleep and her mind didn’t feel like it was processing things fully yet.
It took everything in her to gaze dumbly at the other side of the room and not just collapse back onto the bed and go back to sleep. She was tempted, her body telling her it hadn’t quite had enough rest after the demands she’d put it under.
Her bladder, on the other hand, was saying that sleep would have to wait. She knew from experience that getting up now would mean returning to sleep once she’d taken care of business would be near impossible, especially with the briefing currently taking place in the next room.
That left her sitting on the bed in the semi-dark as she debated each option, torn between trying to sleep a little longer and giving into the inevitable and staying awake. In the end, her bladder decided for her.
She grumbled as she grabbed Fallon’s shirt from the carpeted ground by the bed. She tugged it over her head as she made her way by feel to the chamber pot located in a room attached to the bed chamber.
Her bladder appeased, Shea went to her trunk and pulled out a clean set of clothes. She’d long given up the battle of doing her own laundry, Fallon’s personal attendants making it clear in a non-vocal fashion that that was their job and they wouldn’t allow her to have it any other way. It had taken two weeks of them holding her clothes hostage except for a single
set laid out each morning before she bowed to the inevitable and let them wash them every night. As long as they put them back in the trunk when they were done, Shea had decided to let them have their way.
Once dressed, she hesitated. She didn’t really want to deal with whatever was happening on the other side of the partition. Unfortunately, there was only one way out of their living space and it was through there. Shea had broached the idea of two entrances and was told no. It would be too difficult to secure both.
Unfortunately, that left her with the decision of whether it was worth interrupting or just waiting until everyone went away. It was a decision she wrestled with on a regular basis.
For her, some of it stemmed from the awkwardness of what to do when on the other side of the partition. Did she join Fallon and his advisors? Listen even as she felt more and more like an outsider? Or did she continue on to her affairs and hope her disinterest in their conversation didn’t offend?
Leading the Trateri was Fallon’s calling. Shea had no desire to lead anybody. Hell, she hadn’t even liked leading the groups she took into the wild country. It made the decision to stay or go during these little gatherings a particularly loathsome one. Which was why she was dithering in her bedroom, in what Fallon insisted was her home, while she had never felt like more of an outsider. A feeling that she hated.
No, she was done with this. She’d do what she felt was best, and if they didn’t like it, they could kiss her ass.
Shea batted the curtain aside and stepped through, her jaw set as she took in the scene at a glance. Fallon sat at the head of a long table, Darius to one side and Braden to his other. Eamon sat at the table as did Buck and Trenton. Some of the clan heads were in attendance, and there were a few other faces she didn’t recognize.
Daere looked at her with a questioning expression, one eyebrow rising as if in challenge.
Shea ignored her, not wanting to let the other woman distract her from her goal—escaping the tent without having to interact with anyone there.
Fallon gestured to her, “Shea, join us.”
For a moment, Shea debated the merits of refusing. She discarded that idea, tempting though it was. With Eamon, Buck and the others from the mission that ended with the mist present, Shea knew they wanted to tap into her knowledge to understand what they were facing.
Shea heaved an internal sigh and walked over to them. There was a brief reshuffling as room was made on Fallon’s left. Braden was forced to slide down so Shea could have his spot. She would have been just as happy on the end, but knew from one of the lessons with Daere that the position was considered one of honor, given to his most trusted advisors, or in this case, the Telroi. The only position above it was the spot to his right. As Fallon’s second in command, it was a position that Darius would always be entitled to.
Shea had no idea how she’d remembered all of that, given how much effort she made to ignore anything Daere had said.
Braden avoided looking at Shea as she took a seat. Fallon distracted her, as he poured her a cup of ale and fixed her a plate of food. The first time this had happened, Shea had nearly had a fit, assuming it meant that he was trying to control her. Another of Daere’s lessons had explained the logic behind his actions.
For the Trateri, fixing a plate for someone, especially a prospective mate, fulfilled two purposes. The first being to show that the fixer was able to provide their mate with a comfortable life full of food and plenty. The second was to show the esteem with which they held the other person. Preparing a plate was normally one of the attendant’s jobs. By preparing a plate for Shea, Fallon was saying without words what hold she had over him. Had Shea been present from the beginning, Fallon would have made sure her plate was prepared first.
Shea picked up a piece of flat bread and dipped it into a sauce before taking a bite. The flavors burst on her tongue—the bread warm with a savory and salty taste, the cool bite of the sauce tantalized and teased the senses. Shea knew from experience that it would be easy to mindlessly eat the bread and sauce until she was stuffed.
Knowing she needed to replenish vital nutrients and energy after her adventures, she forked up some of the meat next. It was seasoned to perfection, just enough to complement one of the wild birds they’d trapped but not to overwhelm the natural flavor of the meat.
Fallon waited until she stopped to take a sip of the ale before addressing her. “Eamon was about to share what happened after you left them to search for us.”
Shea took another sip and then sat back, turning her attention to Eamon.
He gave her a respectful nod, addressing both her and Fallon with his next words. “Your plan worked. The soul tree kept us anchored to this world. After the mist swallowed you, the shades, as you called them, spent several hours trying to tempt us away from its safety.”
“There was something else in the mist?” Braden sat forward in interest, his blue eyes pinning Eamon in place.
Eamon looked at Shea before turning to address Braden. “Yes. Shea called them shades. They spoke with the voice of our loved ones who had gone before. Even with Shea’s warning, we nearly lost two of our number.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t something your imagination dreamed up? Maybe something influenced by the superstitions of others?” Braden carefully didn’t look in Shea’s direction as he said that last bit. She got the message though. He didn’t really believe. Even after his own experience, he doubted.
She didn’t waste any of her breath trying to convince him otherwise. To do so would be pointless, and she loathed wasting her time on useless endeavors.
“I heard Daniel’s voice,” Daere said without looking in their direction. “As clear as on the day he died. Do you think I too imagined it, Braden?”
Braden stared at Daere, who didn’t acknowledge his attention. He had an expression on his face, sadness with a hint of longing in it. There was history there. The kind that ended in tears and heartbreak.
A different person would have been tempted to poke and prod until they knew all the details. Shea made a mental note to avoid any mention of the name Daniel and to keep away when the other two were near each other. She didn’t want to get sucked into whatever was going on between them.
“I heard him as well,” Trenton said into the tense quiet. “I also heard my mother. It was harder to resist their words than it should have been.”
“The shades know your innermost fears, those thoughts and dark urges that we like to pretend don’t exist,” Shea said, setting her ale down. “Their voices can be mesmerizing and are difficult to resist even for seasoned pathfinders.”
“You said there were other things hidden there,” Eamon said.
All eyes found Shea as she gazed unseeing at the table. She came back to herself when Fallon spoke, “Have any others gone in and been able to come back?”
Darius shook his head. “None that we know of so far, but we haven’t re-established communication with a small group that was supposed to head south last week. I’m still waiting to hear back from my scouts.”
“What are the chances that we would have come out of that without your help?” Fallon asked Shea.
She frowned in thought. “It’s doubtful you or your men would have made it out. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle I found you. Everything I’ve ever been taught says you and your men should be lost. Eamon’s team is a little more difficult to gauge. They weren’t as deep in as you. One or two of them might have wandered back out by sheer luck. Unlikely, but still possible.”
Shea stiffened as she realized what she’d just admitted. Fallon’s expression was a cold tundra as his hands clenched around the goblet he’d been holding. After a long, tense moment where the rest of the people at the table found places to turn their eyes, Fallon took a deep breath and released it very slowly.
“How do we make it so that their chances are higher?” Fallon asked, his tone measured, with a false sense of calm.
Shea rubbed her thumb against the smooth wood of the table.
She didn’t want to answer that, knowing before she spoke that he wouldn’t like her reply.
“It’s not possible.”
Braden made a derisive sound that Shea ignored.
“There’s a reason pathfinders play such a significant role in the Highlands. If there was a way to cut them out and learn the mist’s secrets, the villagers there would have done so by now,” Shea said.
“You know these secrets though,” Braden said, his eyes hard.
Shea turned to face him, her expression outwardly calm while inwardly she took exception to his tone. It made her want to take her fork and stick it in his neck.
“Some, but not what enables us to travel the mist.”
“That is convenient.” There was a pause before the word convenient as Braden made it clear what he thought of her excuse.
“Now see here,” Buck started, his voice angry. Eamon touched him on the shoulder and gave a minute shake of his head. Eamon’s face was hard as he turned back to the table.
Their reactions weren’t unexpected. It was something that might have happened when they worked together, someone casting aspersions on her abilities, and Buck or Eamon coming to her defense. What was unexpected was the sour look on Trenton and Wilhelm’s faces, their expressions darkening at the implication behind the general’s words.
It was a surprise, given Shea had been half convinced the two merely tolerated her for Fallon’s sake.
Their anger helped spark her own. She was tired of the superior attitude and veiled disrespect Braden had treated her to since she’d appeared. She didn’t know what problem he had with her. Quite frankly she didn’t care. She was done with it.
She pinned him with her gaze and did something she rarely contemplated with people who annoyed her. She explained why things were the way they were. “The last part of our training is very ceremonial. Much like your cleansing ceremony to be adopted into the Trateri, if I had to guess. I can give you parts, but that won’t help you, since the critical component, the thing that makes us able to walk through it without getting lost, is my people’s most closely guarded secret. They only reveal it to those responsible for the last part of our training. I couldn’t give it up even if I wanted to.”